Strangers
by SpikeFan4Life95
Summary: Meg Giry knew the stories about the legendary Opera Ghost just as much as everybody else, so why did she go down after him? It started out as mere curiosity, but would it remain that way? Why did this mysterious Erik fascinate her so? She finds herself beginning to care for the strange man, but will he ever care about another woman again?
1. Chapter 1 - Down Once More

_((A/N: *insert the usual disclaimer of none of the characters belong to me and I can only claim ownership of the writing in this fanfic* based off of various versions of the phantom, but most heavily influenced by the 2004 movie and the sierra/ramin musical. I really like the thought of Meg and Erik together in a romantic sense, so this is my way of doing just that. Enjoy and maybe write a review and tell me how I'm doing so far? It'd be greatly appreciated!)) _

Shouts echoed off the damp stone walls as Meg Giry hurried along through the labyrinth under the Opera Populaire. Who would have thought all this even existed down here! Even more unbelievable was that all this time a man lived down here rather than the ghost they all believed to have haunted this place. Meg sighed and cursed herself for being so silly and believing all those ghost stories – such as the ones Joseph Buquet told before the Phantom killed him. It was strange calling him the Phantom now that she knew he was a living being. She was oddly curious of him now. Her curiosity was what won over her common sense when she had decided to run ahead of all the men storming down into the depths of the opera house. Oh if her mother could see her now! She'd be so disappointed!

Thankfully that night's performance - before the abrupt ending after Christine and The Opera Ghost sang together - required her to wear trousers, so it was easy to move swiftly through the dark corridors. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she ran towards the sound of shouting. "Go and leave me!" Surely that wasn't the men pursuing the phantom, so it must have been him! Why would he go to all those lengths to kidnap Christine if he was just going to let her go? It was many minutes before Meg came to a halt in a nicely lit area that looked as though it served as a living area. There was a bed, furniture, and even a massive organ that took up a large portion of the space. There were obvious signs of a struggle, but no sign of anyone left.

Something white caught the light in the room and Meg's eyes were drawn towards it. It was the mask Christine had pulled off the phantom! With trembling hands, Meg reached towards the chair it was resting on and picked it up. For a few moments she merely stood there stroking it almost lovingly before starting at the sound of men's voices coming from behind. As she turned, movement caught her eye and she saw a man escaping through a passage through a broken mirror. As if he realized eyes were upon him, the man turned towards her slowly, the right side of his face shrouded in shadows, and held a finger to his lips in a sign to be silent and with a sweep of his long cape he was gone. Meg gaped at him, but quickly gained her composure when a dozen or so men hurried into the room.

"H-he's gone!" She exclaimed. It certainly wasn't a lie – not yet at least. "I uh heard him Monsieurs, he was speaking to himself! He said he was going to take a carriage – one of the opera houses – and go to London! Surely he hasn't gone far; you must catch him before he escapes!" She wasn't sure why she had decided to lead them off his trail, but the plan worked perfectly. Generally her outburst would have been frowned upon or ignored, but under the circumstances, they'd take any lead they could get.

Once more the girl was left alone and with the mask clutched in her hand, she hurried into the passageway hidden behind the now broken mirror. It grew very dark once she left the illumination of the previous room – which was now hidden by a thick, dark curtain that seemed to be meant to hide the mirror that she pulled closed upon entering the hallway. The passage was very narrow and Meg could feel her chest tighten in fear as it felt like the walls were closing in around her. "Monsieur Phantom!" She called out in a hoarse whisper as she panted and kept moving forward. It was a slow progress because she couldn't see and held her arms out to trail across the cold stone. It felt as though this corridor would go on forever. Suddenly – with only a faint whisper of movement in the air – Meg felt the pressure of a noose against her neck. She gasped before it closed around her throat and she could hardly breathe.

"Didn't your mother tell you? Keep your hand at the level of your eye," his gruff voice sounded in her ear. She squirmed against him, but to no avail – he had her held tightly. "Ah-ah, stop your squirming, Mademoiselle it will do you no good." Holding the lasso with one hand and the other arm wrapped around her waist, the opera ghost pulled her with him further into the dark. Meg's heart thumped so loudly she was sure he could hear it and she felt bile rise in her throat out of fear. She hadn't expected this. It was foolish of her not to realize something like this would happen. He was a _murderer_ and she had known it before she even came down there!

After many terrifying minutes of silence aside from the sound of their breathing and their feet scuffing against the floor, the phantom paused and released his grip on her waist in order to unlock a series of bolts on a door. Once unlocked, he pushed the door open and all but tossed Meg inside, skillfully removing the Punjab lasso and tucking it back into his cloak before she had even hit the floor. The room was shrouded in darkness, which only grew more oppressive when he slammed and locked the door behind him.

"P-please sir! Mother will be looking for me!" She exclaimed with tears burning in her eyes. He kept his back towards her and laughed darkly. It sent shivers down her spine.

"Perhaps, little Meg, you should have considered that before so thoughtlessly invading my domain with the rest of those fools," he replied, and with his back still facing away from her – not as though she could see him anyways – lit a few candles that were set on an end table in the room. Meg gasped as the room was illuminated. Unlike the previous room by the lake, this one was in impeccable condition. To her left was a large bed covered with dark scarlet sheets made of silk, from the dim light in the room it appeared as though an armoire rested against the wall, and the greatest shock came from the vanity table at the far end of the large room. On it were various displays for a multitude of masks. While she observed the room, the phantom – surely it was foolish to still call him this, but she knew no other name for the man – picked up a plain black mask off the vanity table and placed it on the right side of his face. He visibly relaxed and seemed to gain a bit of composure, but it was clear to Meg that something in him had snapped and it wouldn't take much to set him off. She feared what would happen if she did that.

Calmer than she was moments earlier, Meg slowly stood and approached the phantom. "Monsieur," she said softly to get his attention. He faced her and looked at her quizzically. She held out the mask she somehow managed not to drop in shaking hands. He reached towards it, but about halfway to her outstretched hand, she saw such anguish in his eyes she nearly teared up, and he quickly snatched it away from her and turned away to remove his other mask and place that one on. He preferred it out of all the others. Meg watched curiously after he placed the mask on his face. It seemed as though he was attempting to compose himself. Finally, the hands that had been clenched at his sides relaxed and he gazed at her tiredly.

"Why have you come here? Why lie for me? What is it you are seeking to gain from intruding upon my torment?" He asked wearily and sank into a comfortable looking chair. Meg was at a bit of a loss. She wasn't sure what happened before she got down there, but it obviously hadn't been good for the man. She stood awkwardly for a few moments before carefully perching on the edge of his bed.

"I-I'm not sure why I came down here . . . it's hard to explain . . . you'll think it's silly, but despite all the stories about you, I was worried for you. A man I hardly know! I don't know what to make of it myself. As for why I lied for you, I suppose it was a gut reaction. Those men had death in their eyes. I didn't mean to intrude though – I-I'm sorry, Monsieur . . ." she trailed off and wrung her hands in her lap, refusing to look at him for she was certain he would be laughing at her.

In truth, her answer surprised him, and at any other time he would have been far kinder than he was at that moment. Erik was practically drowning in self-pity and disgust for his loathsome self. "Yes well perhaps you shouldn't have meddled in affairs you know nothing of. You're merely a child sticking her nose where it does not belong! Perhaps I wanted to die!" He exclaimed in an angry burst but with tears burning in his eyes. Erik turned his face away from her.

"Monsieur! Do not say such things! Death is not something to be spoken of lightly!" Her arguments were all in vain though because he was too weary to listen.

"It does not matter now. All is gone – my love, my music, my very soul – despair is all the company I have now," he murmured, mostly to himself. Sympathy rose up in Meg and she reached her hand towards his cheek.

"You have me," she told him with a gentle smile. He glanced at her in shock, but did not comment. Instead, he got up and retrieved a woman's nightgown.

"Here," he said in a gruff tone and handed it towards her. The nightgown would be too long for Meg – it looked as though it was Christine's size – but she smiled gratefully. "You'll have to stay here for the night – if those brutes see you leaving from here they'll find me, and despite appearances, I do not enjoy killing," he remarked and then opened a door aside from the one they entered through that Meg hadn't noticed before. "Do not attempt to leave before I allow you to do so. I'll know and will be most . . . displeased." He went to step through the door, but Meg's voice halted him.

"Wait!" She called out. He sighed, but did not turn around. "Monsieur – what is your name?"

"You know my name."

"Monsieur, what I meant is – what is your _real_ name? Surely you have one," she replied. Hopefully her question wouldn't send him into a rage. All Meg had heard about him from Christine is that her Angel of Music had a terrible temper, and it was best to avoid anything that would bring it out.

Unbeknownst to her, his expression clouded over with confusion. Had anyone ever asked him his name? Aside from Antoinette – whom assisted in deciding his name – he couldn't remember anyone ever bothering. Not even _her_. Christine did not care to ask his name. He should have realized all was doomed far before now. With tears burning in his eyes once more and sliding down his cheeks, he choked out an answer before practically throwing himself into the other room and slamming the door behind him. "Erik – my name is Erik," he had said with a voice that told Meg he was holding back a sob.

"Erik . . . it suits him," she mused to the now empty room. From the other side of the door, she heard the distinct sounds of muffled cries. Tears slid down her own cheeks from the pure brokenness in his despaired sobs. She rubbed the tears off her face before slipping off her dirty costume and putting on the nightgown. Meg couldn't help one last sympathetic gaze towards the door Erik had disappeared into before pulling back the covers of the bed and putting out the light from the candles. She felt that surely she'd never sleep after all that had happened, but Meg soon discovered that adrenaline was all that had kept her from falling over from exhaustion. Practically the second her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep – dreaming of masks and music.


	2. Chapter 2 - I've Seen Worse

_((A/N: This chapter came quite easily, but I was working on writing ahead a bit so my updates aren't terribly slow. I've got about 600 more words for my next chapter until I'm satisfied with its length and will post it. As always reviews are appreciated ~ believe me I read them all and will try to respond to them! This is my first POtO fic so hopefully I'm doing them justice. By the by - Music of the Night sadly does not belong to me. Andrew Lloyd Webber has ownership of that lovely song, I just borrowed it))_

While she slept, Erik sobbed pitifully. He'd never felt so desolate. At least before he'd had his music to comfort him, but now it just reminded him of _her._ By now, that fop surely had her out of Paris and on the way to some country estate. The only other time he'd experienced this gut wrenching sorrow was watching his own parents walk away from him after handing him over to gypsies. "Why, Christine – _why!?"_ he exclaimed and buried his face in his hands. Erik had been certain that when she had returned after he'd been overcome with sorrow that she was going to stay. He loved her – how could she leave him like that? From his pocket, he drew out the ring she'd pressed into his palm before leaving. For a few moments he stared at it, watching the candlelight shine off it. The ring was brilliant aside from being a bit gaudier than Erik preferred. He composed himself slightly until his eyes spotted words engraved on the inside of the ring. He squinted to make out what it said. Erik regretted it instantly. With a tortured cry, he flung the accursed jewelry across the room and stormed out in a rage. _Love always to my sweet Little Lottie – Raoul._ The words were burned into Erik's mind. His? _His!?_ No – she was never meant to be his! Her body and mind may belong to the Vicomte, but her soul belonged to _him!_

The room he was in – which served as a library and study, led into another passageway separate from the one that led to his bedroom, and he exited the room and traveled through the familiar surroundings. It was a labyrinth down here, and he knew where each corridor led. He could walk them in his sleep. Finally he arrived at a place in the wall he'd created as a secret passageway to his main chambers by the lake. He was in a terrible, blind rage, and felt like destroying something. He made sure there were no individuals lingering about before he stepped out and went towards his organ.

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness wakes and stirs imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses  
Helpless to resist the notes I write...  
For I compose the music of the night_

_Slowly, gently, Night unfurls it's Splendor_  
_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_  
_Hearing is believing, music is deceiving_  
_Hard as lightening, soft as candlelight._  
_Dare you trust the music of the night?_

He closed his eyes while he softly sang his music, but he could not continue after the first two stanzas. Anger and hurt had overwhelmed him. He'd given her everything and in return he received nothing, in fact she'd even stolen his love for music – at least temporarily. When he sang, he sang for her, and when he played, it was all for her. Before he could regret doing so, Erik went about destroying the large organ that dominated his lair. The racket was deafening and later he would reflect on his luck that nobody came down to discover him.

When his rage wore off, he stared at what he had just done with his bare hands. His most prized possession was utterly ruined. When he flexed his fingers, he hissed in pain and glanced down at them. To his surprise, his hands were all bloody and he was covered in sweat. It looked like he would need to go bandage himself up. With one last regretful glance at what he'd done, Erik turned away and began the journey back to his library. He had a letter to write, and only a few hours to do so – when he had checked his pocket watch he had been surprised to discover it was well past midnight and nearing dawn. Once his hands were bandaged as well as he could bandage them, Erik pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and began to write.

* * *

Meg awoke warm and contented only a few minutes after Erik had finished his letter and placed it in a spot she would find it. Stretching her arms and legs, she rolled over to check the clock and see what time it was. "Seven in the morning! Oh! Mother is going to have my neck wrung!" She exclaimed and launched out of the bed. Meg paused for a moment before deciding to go ahead and make the bed. Once finished, she noticed a note lying on the vanity table atop her costume from the night before, but freshly washed. _Oh that was kind of him_ she mused as she changed and placed the nightgown in its place. Meg picked up the pink rose that was next to the note and sniffed it with a small smile before setting it aside and reaching for the note.

The parchment was obviously rather expensive, but the note was missing his typical red skull seal. Meg unfolded it and quickly skimmed the note. Disappointment washed over her, but it wasn't as though she hadn't been expecting this response. He was still grieving the loss of Christine, of course he'd want time to himself to recover from that.

_Mademoiselle Giry,_

_While your kindness was greatly appreciated in assisting me in hiding from those who were hunting me, I must ask you to return above and never speak of what you've seen here. I imagine much of the old chorus members and dancers will leave the Opera Populaire, and I may be able to resume my role as the Opera Ghost and leave behind all of what occurred. They are likely missing you already, so I must ask you to return once you've read this note. You should know the way by now. Do not attempt to seek me out. If I require you for anything, I shall find you. Best wishes to you for the upcoming opera season._

_Erik _

It was ridiculous to feel so annoyed at his response. They hardly knew each other outside of reputation! She was lucky he didn't even bother with killing her. Aside from a rare few quite recently, Erik never let people leave once they visited his underground domain. With a sigh, Meg tucked the note and flower carefully into her pocket and opened the door that led out. As she entered the room by the lake, she gasped at the sight of the once beautiful organ that had dominated the space previously. Now it was smashed to bits and broken – keys and pipes littered the ground and the very base of it was damaged as well. Organs were incredibly sturdy instruments, so it must have taken quite a bit of strength (_or anger_ she thought) to destroy it so thoroughly.

As she stared out at the vast lake that kept her from the exit she was most familiar with, she felt dismay well up in her. Unless she could remember the entrance she'd used last night, she'd have to wade through water that went up nearly to her neck. The boat was on this side of the lake, but she knew she'd never be able to control the boat or even paddle it without careening off into the stone walls. Looking for alternatives to wading through the water, she ran a hand through her hair in irritation. It was then that she realized how terrible she must look because her hair was so tangled she nearly got her hand stuck in it. "Oh I must be a sight!" She exclaimed to herself.

"I've seen worse," she heard from behind and Meg started before whirling around. Erik stood there, mask and cape donned over a meticulously put together outfit. It appeared he was feeling better, or at least keeping up a façade that he was. She let out an anxious laugh, but quickly cut it off when it got slightly hysterical.

"Thank you, I suppose," she murmured. "Sorry I seem to have forgotten the passage I used to get down here last night. In all the rush I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have," she explained because she felt like her continued presence needed to be explained. He waved off her explanation and gestured for her to follow him into the boat. She silently obliged because each moment she was down there she worried about her mother's reaction to her being missing.

"I shall return you – I don't mind," he replied as he started paddling them across the lake. He was quite focused on the task of rowing the boat, so Meg took this opportunity to look at him more closely than she felt comfortable doing while conversing with him. He seemed better than last night, or he was just more closed off. His hair was meticulous, his mask gleaming, and the side of his face she could see was actually quite handsome. Surely what lay underneath the mask was not so hideous it could take away from the handsome side of his face. Why on earth had Christine said his face was hardly a face at all? She'd told Meg all about her time down with him after they found her. Apparently he'd gotten very angry with her for removing his mask and seeing his face. That was all the kept Meg's curiosity in check. She didn't dare ruin whatever kindness was between them. Surely he wasn't so bad, and he didn't seem to be a heartlessly, cruel man because he'd clothed her and gave her a place to stay, and had even washed her costume so she wouldn't return above covered in grime. "Is there a reason you are staring at me?" He asked in a cold tone and startled her.

"Oh! I – sorry? I just wondered why everybody is so scared of you . . . you don't seem so bad," she commented truthfully. His eyebrow rose in interest, but otherwise he said nothing. The silence settled heavily between them, and he did not speak until after he'd reached his gloved hand out to assist her in exiting the boat. They were halfway through the passage that led to Christine's dressing room before he replied to her comment in the boat.

"I appreciate your kind words, but they come from an ignorant mind. You have yet to see my face, and never will, so your opinion is flawed," he said as he groped along the wall looking for the switch that would open up the way to Christine's dressing room. Meg puffed up indignantly – he'd just insulted her and made it quite plain that her opinion didn't matter to him – but before she could open her mouth to let out a biting retort, Erik found the switch and the door swung open into Christine's room. She managed to shoot him a glare before stepping over the threshold and slamming the mirror in his face. She had the feeling he would linger there for a few, so she decided to at least say _something_.

"Just because Christine denied you does not mean you should cut yourself off from the world even more than before. You have at least two people that care about what happens to you – pushing us away does not go far in keeping you in our favor," she snapped before turning away and exiting the room with a slam of the door. Erik stood on the other side of the mirror in stunned silence. He'd never heard little Meg speak so harshly, but he supposed it was not undeserved. She had seen right through him as if he was as transparent as this very mirror he was gazing through. He'd been trying to do exactly what she accused him off – pushing her away. The darkness and isolation was what he knew best, and though it was lonely and not ideal, it was almost comforting. He knew what to expect and he had control over what happened. It was obvious what a lack of control created. He'd lost his edge with Christine; he would not so easily lose it again.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Heart Moves On

_((A/N: I've got quite a few author notes to add in here, so bear with me. First off the opera mentioned within this chapter, Cendrillon, wasn't actually written until 1895, but it fits in with what I'm doing with the plot I think, so I'm using it as the first performance of the opera season. Secondly, I used a lot of small French phrases, and I don't actually speak French, but I did research so I'm hoping I've got everything translated correctly. Translations will be put at the end of the chapter. As always, thanks for reading and reviews are lovely, especially for prodding me to update. Enjoy!)) _

The Opera it seemed was still in a bit of an uproar. On the way to the room she shared with her mother, Meg passed quite a few interesting conversations. Thankfully with all the confusion still present nobody seemed to have noticed she was missing. In fact, nobody noticed her at all. She passed through backstage on the way to her room and heard the managers, Andre and Firman, desperately begging many of the chorus members and ballet dancers to stay. She smiled to herself at their antics.

"Please, Mademoiselle Richards!" Andre exclaimed and chased after one of their best ballet dancers while she completely ignored his presence. Her possessions were in suitcases and she had her coat on as though she was leaving this very moment. "We'll increase your pay!" He added frantically. She whipped around and sent him a dirty look.

"You cannot bribe me with any sum to stay here! You saw just as well as everybody else what happened! What can this phantom escalate to after dropping the chandelier on the audience?! I am not risking my life any longer! I quit!" She yelled and stormed off stage before the managers could stop her. Firman called after her, but she merely waved a hand dismissively and walked out. The remaining performers watched in shock while the stagehands snickered. It was likely that those left - perhaps maybe half of those who were previously employed at the Opera Populaire – were only there because they had nowhere else to go.

"Oh we are ruined! Andre we are utterly ruined!" Firman exclaimed and pressed a hand to his forehead. Andre looked equally stressed with unkempt hair and rumpled clothing. "If we hadn't already put our fortune from the junk business in this damn Opera I'd suggest we just cut our losses and leave it to rot!" He exclaimed.

"Scrap metal business," Andre corrected him. "It appears we will be holding auditions since half our performers have up and left!" He complained before turning to address the remaining people backstage. "We will need a new Prima Donna! Auditions for the role will be opened first to those of you remaining. Please there is nothing to fear from this phantom! I believe the Vicomte de Changy has weakened him and he will not be bothering _our_ Opera House any longer!" There were cheers from the performers before they all scurried away practicing their singing for the auditions. Meg was excited herself because she'd always longed to have a main singing role. She was watching the managers carefully, which was when she spotted her mother heading towards them with a grim look on her face. Meg resisted the urge to immediately run over and instead saw her mother press a letter, sealed with a red skull, into Firman's hands. Andre threw his hands up in exasperation while Firmen went about reading it. Thus was the moment Meg hurried towards her mother.

"Maman!" She exclaimed and hugged her mother tightly. Madame Giry nearly cried in relief and held her daughter close to her before pulling away and aiming a stern gaze on her.

"Where on earth have you been, ma fille belle?" She asked her rather harshly due to how worried she had been. Madame Giry thought for sure Erik had her and was holding her hostage. She knew Raoul and Christine had escaped and were likely in some country estate of his and preparing to be wed. At least those two had a happy ending. Surely Erik should have realized Christine was not his to torment. She did not belong in the dark with him. She was a child of light and summer – something Erik could never give her because of how he viewed himself. In all actuality, if Erik had a bit more confidence and used perhaps a bit of makeup on his right side, he could pass for normal and move in society without too many questions. His childhood spent with the gypsies was likely the reason he felt so poorly of himself for Madame Giry had shown him nothing but kindness. She helped Raoul take Christine away because she was bad for Erik and the whole ordeal had likely adversely affected his sanity. This was the reason she had been so worried about her little Meg.

"Surely we must not discuss this here, mother?" Meg responded. Her mother nodded.

"We'll speak of it in our room tonight. For now – mon cher, I'd suggest you clean yourself up. Tonight we shall work on your audition solo. Surely with Christine and La Carlotta gone, you will be guaranteed the role." Meg nodded and wandered away from backstage, and she was unaware of eyes on her from the catwalk above. She passed the spot where the chandelier had fallen and winced at the singed carpet. It seemed they put the fire out rather quickly though because the damage was confined to that one spot. Stagehands were still working on clearing out the debris. With one last glance behind her, she inhaled sharply when she spotted a flash of white above, but as soon as it appeared – it was gone and she questioned if she had actually seen anything at all.

* * *

The scene below Erik amused him. The managers were foolish enough to believe that the Opera Ghost was no longer, when in fact - he was stronger than ever! There was no Christine for him to pine over and make his actions careless. From now on, nothing would get in the way of what he wanted. He smirked when Madame Giry handed them the note he left for her to deliver. It seemed he could still trust her to deliver his correspondences. Many of the old performers had left, but it would not be long before new ones replaced them. Despite the previous _misfortunes_, the Opera Populaire was still one of the most highly sought places of employment, and the mystery surrounding The Phantom of the Opera would likely draw in many curious young singers and dancers.

Auditions for the Prima Donna? Erik had nearly forgotten they needed to have those. He only knew one girl left in the Opera Populaire who was deserving of that role, and it was the least he could do for Madame Giry to help the girl. Meg Giry _would_ accept his help and he would _not_ get attached. He saw all too clearly what attachment to his pupils meant. As he walked along the catwalk, his eyes followed the young blonde as she embraced her mother and chatted with her for a few. It was obvious by the brevity that she was not discussing where she had been, but Erik knew as soon as they were behind closed doors – the dam would break.

He continued to follow her movements as she stepped off the stage. When she turned around and caught sight of him, he ducked out of her vision and disappeared back into one of the many secret passages of the Opera House. Hopefully by now the managers were reading his note. He'd offered them a sort of truce in a way, and if they were even moderately intelligent, they would obey his demands. It wasn't as if they were taxing in the least. He remembered the carefully selected words perfectly and recited them in his head as he went about checking on the rest of _his _Opera House.

_My dear Monsieurs,_

_It seems that events of the last few days have not gone as I originally planned. For once, this is not entirely your fault. Apologies are in order for the destruction of the chandelier – for it was a lovely decoration, and for the loss of your Prima Donna. I'm certain you'll easily find replacements for all the performers and patrons you may have lost. Considering these circumstances, I've decided to be generous and only expect the amount of five thousand francs to be left in Box 5 for my salary. The excess fifteen thousand francs should be spent in organizing your next opera, which after much consideration I have decided should be Cendrillon. The casting is primarily up to you, but if I'm displeased with your choices I will make it known. Best wishes to you this opera season, and remember to keep Box 5 open for my use._

_I remain, as always, your obedient servant,_

_O.G. _

It was one of the longer notes that he'd ever sent them, but it was necessary to get his point across. By now they were likely complaining about him, and he decided he would spy on them in their office later. With a swish of his cape, Erik continued his rounds of the Opera House to make sure all was running smoothly.

* * *

It wasn't until it was nearly time for bed before Meg saw her mother. After she'd cleaned herself up and had something to eat, she was still rather tired so the day was spent in rest. Her mother finally entered their room after dinner. Meg awoke from a doze when the smell of food reached her nose. Madame Giry was balancing two trays of food and attempting to close the door behind her. Meg quickly rushed to help her, and soon they were seated and eating dinner together in their room and away from the other opera members.

"I suppose you want to know what happened," Meg brought up the subject after a few minutes of silence. Madame Giry merely nodded and that was all the encouragement Meg needed to begin her story. She told her mother everything – from not listening to her about staying above, finding the mask, leading the men off Erik's trail, to finding the organ smashed to bits and him rowing her back to the passage to Christine's dressing room. Madame Giry was quiet for a few moments as she took this information in.

"So he's told you his name," she mused. Meg crinkled her brows in confusion. That's what she was worried about? Of all the information she could have focused on she chose that?

"Well, yes. I asked him," she replied uncertainly. What was so wrong with knowing his name?

"Meg, mon ange, have you realized what you have done?" Her mother asked with a bit of wild panic in her gaze. It made Meg uncomfortable and was scaring her.

"What could I have possibly done by asking him his _name_? That's so innocent of a question!" She exclaimed in exasperation. Her mother leapt to her feet and knocked her chair back in the process. She went around the table and grabbed hold of her daughter's arm.

"You've opened yourself up to be the next girl he convinces himself he's in love with! Mon cher, I know your intents were kind, but no human being has shown him kindness aside from myself and I'm far too much like a guardian to him for him to form romantic attachments to me. You've seen what he is capable of! You saw what happened with Christine. History will just repeat itself, and who knows what he would do now that there is no chandelier to crash! You mustn't be so careless!" Meg felt anger well up in her from her mother's treatment of Erik. Despite saying she is a guardian to the man; she can stand here and lecture Meg on how terrible he is? She realized he wasn't the most sane or moral man to exist, but there was something that intrigued her about him and she wouldn't rest until she discovered what it was.

"But mére – he's in love with Christine! It doesn't matter that she left; I can tell he still loves her with all his heart! You didn't see him! He was so . . . sad," she trailed off and sighed. She would get nowhere with her mother, she could tell already.

"The heart moves on, Meg. He'll move on to the very next woman who shows him any scrap of kindness, and you've already done so! I forbid you to seek him out, speak to him, or even speak of him to anyone aside from myself, do you understand? This opera is in dire conditions now because of Christine – I will not have my own daughter creating the very same problems!" Meg was indigent, but knew not to argue with her mother. She could be quite stern when it was necessary. Though she nodded in acceptance of her words, Meg had no intentions on carrying out her commands. If Erik showed himself, and she doubted he would anyways, Meg would not withdraw her kindness towards him – for that could be even worse than what her mother thought would happen by showing him compassion.

"Now – it appears we have a solo to pick out for auditions," her mother continued as if the intense conversation had never occurred. She released Meg's arm, but there would surely be bruising in the morning. Her mother had never used force on her before – she hadn't needed to. Meg could be rather rebellious when she so chose, so Madame Giry hoped beyond all hope her daughter would heed her words – lest they all be doomed.

_((translations: maman - mommy/mom, ma fille belle - my beautiful girl, mon cher - my dear, mon ange - my angel, mere - mother))_


	4. Chapter 4 - She Took My Music

_((A/N: Sorry this update took me a bit. My writing muse sorta disappeared towards the end of here, so I might rewrite it if I find a better way to say what I needed to. The song towards the end is Maybe by Sick Puppies.))_

That evening Erik took his usual place behind the wall of the manager's office. Unbeknownst to them, there was a hole that had been drilled through the wall and served as the perfect place for Erik to look through in order to spy on them. Tonight would wind up being just as enlightening as usual. Firman was pacing the area in front of the large, cluttered desk while Andre was seated and glancing through a stack of letters. Upon further inspection, Erik received a jolt of surprise when he discovered they were all letters from him. Had he really sent that many last opera season? They were more stubborn than the previous manager, so it was their fault he had to use so much parchment.

"The note is from him, Firman, that fact is indisputable," Andre said after comparing their latest note to the ones previously received from this mysterious Opera Ghost.

"But just who _is_ he? A year of this nonsense and we still have no idea who he is. I'm tempted to just send the entire police force down below to capture him and prove once and for all our phantom is _not_ a phantom at all!" Firman was fed up with this opera house. If he would have known how much of a pain it was, he wouldn't have taken over in the first place!

Andre sat thoughtfully for a few moments before formulating a reply. "I think our phantom is too clever to be captured by such antics. Down below is where he stays, you've heard the stories about his Punjab lasso and what he does to intruders," he was going to continue, but Firman interrupted. He slammed his palm down on the desk in exasperation.

"Yes I've heard the stories! We all have! It doesn't mean they hold any sway over me! What is the proof he's even used this lasso?"

"What about Joseph Buq – ?"

"- Don't bring him up! That was clearly an accident!" Firman shouted in denial. He sighed and sank down into a nearby chair. Firman placed his hands over his face and assumed a posture of utter defeat that brought a smile to Erik's lips.

"Yes well erm, anyways, I suppose until we find a way to capture this phantom," Firman scoffed at this and thought _phantom? More like madman!_ "We should comply with his demands. Not doing so last opera season is likely what caused many of our problems. We haven't the money to go through that again," Andre finished his suggestion and rather than argue, Firman merely nodded.

"Oh fine! You write the reply back to Madame Giry then. This phantom business has made me far too weary. If that is all we need to discuss for the night, I'm going home," Firman commented as he stood up and put on his coat and hat.

"Well there is the matter of auditions . . ." Andre pointed out and Firman rolled his eyes.

"Oh let Madame Giry handle that," he snapped as he stalked across the room and slammed the door after he exited. Andre sighed and set to work on writing his letter. Erik chose this moment to leave and follow his hidden passageway out into the hallway that housed some of the employees of the opera house. _Antoinette's room is somewhere around here_ he silently mused. He didn't need her for anything at the moment, but he couldn't help but make note of the location of the room. The doors would say the name of the inhabitants, so he just had to get close enough to read them to find where the Girys stayed.

Just as Erik was nearing one of the doors, it slowly creaked open and he had to scramble away without his usual phantom-like finesse. A blonde head popped out and glanced down both directions of the hallway. Erik narrowly avoided detection by pulling his cape up and over the bright white of his mask that stood out quite prominently in the dark. _What on earth is she up to?_ He wondered as he watched her creep outside her room, fully dressed, and carefully shut the door behind her. She kept glancing around her as though she was worried about detection which made following her difficult, but not impossible because Erik was the master of stealth. No matter how alert a person was, he was able to sneak up on them.

* * *

Meg's heart was pounding in her chest and fear of detection made her paranoid. She wasn't sure why, but she'd been struck with the urge to visit the opera house chapel her and Christine often played in when they were younger. She missed her best friend terribly, and it was the only place she felt like she was near her. She could have made the trip during the day, but she would have chanced running into somebody, and she was feeling a bit rebellious tonight anyways. Her mother didn't want her to seek out Erik? Fine, she'd just visit somewhere she knew he was likely to keep an eye on. According to Christine, he sometimes taught her singing lessons there, so it was probably pretty close to his heart as well. Even at this very moment, she felt as though _somebody_ was following her, watching her, and seeing as how she hadn't been yelled at yet, she assumed it was _him._ Oh she felt utterly possessed! She'd always been curious of him and jealous that he had only shown himself to Christine, but now her curiosity was all but taking her over. Rather than cease these feelings, her mother's words made them worse. What was she hiding? How could she claim to know his true nature when she hardly spent time with him? Surely he was not as bad as everyone claimed. Meg was almost certain of it. He'd certainly been horrifying during _Don Juan Triumphant_, but he'd been pushed to his limits – it was obvious. Even from her vantage point, she could tell Christine was just teasing him during the majority of that duet. Meg smiled softly despite herself when she remembered how embarrassed she'd been just watching them on stage. It was so personal a moment and Christine had taken advantage of his moment of absolute trust. Any man would take that badly! Perhaps not to the extent Erik did, but it would not leave them entirely unaffected.

Her mind was so clogged with thoughts; she didn't realize she'd reached the chapel until she nearly collided with the closed door. Shaking her head at her carelessness, she opened the door and took a deep, calming breath. The very air of this place seemed filled with tranquility, and it was working wonders on her disposition. Her worries of the day and the upcoming auditions melted away and she took a seat by the stained glass window. This was always their favorite spot. Feeling like a child again, Meg sat and tucked her feet beneath her. "Oh Christine why did you have to leave?" She asked the empty air. As expected, there was no answer, but Meg suddenly had the urge to say all the things she wanted to say to Christine. "I'm all alone aside from mother now. The other ballet dancers think I'm only there because maman is the instructor, so none of us really get along . . . you were my only true friend Christine. Why did you have to leave me?" She asked pitifully with tears streaming down her face. Despite her disagreement over some of the things Christine had done, she was still practically a sister to her. "Maman won't let me write you yet even though she knows where you're staying. I'm not sure why," she trailed off and then just stared off into space. "I just miss you so terribly!"

"Dry your tears petit ange," a melodious voice called out to her from the shadows. She looked around and tried to find the source of the voice, but to no avail. Despite the circumstances, she was unafraid. Surely this was Erik, but why would he care if she cried? "I have a proposition for you," he continued and Meg's eyes widened. Surely he did not mean what she thought he meant? His unexpected chuckle told her that he realized the direction of her thoughts. "It's likely not what you're thinking I imagine."

Meg sniffled and wiped at her cheeks. "What is this proposition of yours?" She asked unable to hide her curiosity in her tone. She couldn't help it. What on earth would the great Phantom of the Opera offer her? She was desperate to know, but tried to keep this desperation out of her voice and expression.

"You know as well as I that my opera needs replacements for those that left – in particular the Prima Donna – and I've come to make sure those idiot managers make the right choice. The remaining chorus members are practically useless because none of them can sing soprano, but you, Meg, surely with some practice you can be just what the Opera Populaire needs in a Prima Donna." Her eyes widened. Surely he did not mean what he said. She was just some ballet rat and nothing more.

"B-but Monsieur I'm merely a ballet girl. I haven't the voice . . ." she trailed off with a sigh. There was a long pause. Meg thought it was because he was reconsidering his offer and she looked down at her feet to cover up the fact tears were welling up in her eyes once more. She couldn't stand all the weeping she'd done as of late. It made her eyes sting and her head pound. When he was so silent Meg thought he had left, she leaned her head against the cool, stone wall. His voice startled her when she closed her eyes.

"I've heard you sing before . . . you didn't know, but that one night you were with Christine I was listening. At the time I'd been so _blinded_," he sounded like he choked on the word, "by her that I didn't have a thought of you. Now that she's gone I've realized what a lovely voice you have. Sing for me." His command startled her so much she forgot about her grievances with him so openly admitting she was his second choice. _Oh why does it matter, he's just thinking of the Opera House and doesn't want some newcomer on the stage as the Prima Donna._

"Sing? Well what should I sing?" She asked. It would be better to do as he asked for now. She knew what an angry Phantom meant. It seemed that the very human Erik had recovered enough to put on his façade of the Phantom again and it felt odd thinking of him as Erik at the present moment.

"Whatever comes to you," he responded entirely unhelpfully. She thought for a moment, trying to decide which song she wanted to sing. Meg sat up straight and waited for a song to come to her. She wasn't sure where it came from, but suddenly she started singing something that just flowed into her mind:

_Maybe I'm a dreamer  
Maybe I'm misunderstood  
Maybe you're not seeing the side of me you should  
Maybe I'm crazy  
(Maybe I'm crazy)  
Maybe I'm the only one  
(Maybe I'm the only one)  
Maybe I'm just out of touch  
Maybe I've just had enough_

_Maybe it's time to change  
And leave it all behind  
I've never been one to walk alone  
I've always been scared to try  
So why does it feel so wrong  
To reach for something more  
To wanna live a better life  
What am I waiting for?  
'Cause nothing stays the same  
Maybe it's time to change_

When she finished she realized that sometime during her singing she had stood up, so now she fiddled with her dress and waited for the criticisms to come. They didn't. She gazed about the room trying to spot him when he stepped out from the shadows. The sparse moonlight glinted off his mask and he was dressed all in black, so his face was the only part of him she could see well. "So how was I?" She asked nervously.

* * *

_How was she?_ Oh what a question. It certainly wasn't something he could answer truthfully. Her voice was obviously not practiced, but it was certain she had hidden talent. Why on earth was she a mere ballet dancer with such potential? He was so preoccupied in his mind about how he could reply to her without making his desperation obvious that he didn't notice her nervousness. Surely he'd frighten her away if he showed too much interest in her voice.

"Your voice is good enough for a chorus girl, but if you really wish to succeed as Prima Donna, you'll need a tutor." He nearly cringed upon the realization that this was playing out far too much like how it did with Christine, but the Opera really did need a Prima Donna, and he didn't want some stranger singing the lead.

"Since I sang for you, am I allowed to hear you sing something as well?" She asked quietly enough that he almost didn't catch it. He sighed. Erik had been expecting this question, just not this soon. If she was hoping for him to jump at the chance to sing again, she would be sadly mistaken. Erik took a few moments of thought before answering her seemingly innocent question that in actuality caused him pain.

"No. I will never sing again," he paused and debated admitting his reasoning. Finally, he decided he might as well, and if she decided she didn't wish to be burdened by him, they could part before he grew more attached than he already was. It would be a lie to say he wasn't affected by her. He was, but it was early on enough that her rejection wouldn't hurt nearly as much as Christine's. "Christine stole more than my heart that night you found me. She took my music as well. I fear I shall never recover it." Meg's face softened in sympathy, but Erik didn't give her a chance to speak. "Your lessons begin tomorrow night at eight. Meet me here. Goodnight, petit ange."

Without even a backward glance, Erik disappeared through some secret passage and left Meg all alone and rather confused. She wasn't sure why he wanted to help her, but it seemed as though she'd find out tomorrow. Yawning, she realized how tired she was and left the chapel to head to bed. She'd certainly need her rest for the upcoming days.


	5. Chapter 5 - Chorus Auditions

_ ((A/N: Slow update and kinda short chapter - sorry about that. New character introduced though! Hopefully the next chapter won't take me as long as this one did.)) _

The next day was far more eventful than Meg generally liked. Sure, she thrived on the hurried atmosphere of the opera, but it was clear that the managers still had no clue as to how to run an opera house. Rather than organize the auditions for new cast members themselves, they left that work to her mother and Monsieur Reyer while they locked themselves in their office – as usual. Meg was amazed that poor Reyer stuck around. He must really love opera because at the present moment he looked absolutely harried and as though he should have walked out ages ago, and yet he remained nonetheless. Her mother was much more in control of her outward appearance, so she merely came off as more strict than usual. Between the two of them, they'd sent home plenty of crying girls who they deemed "ill-suited to sing in any opera." Meg sat quietly in the front row of opera seats as she watched the auditions. So far they had found quite a few pretty girls who would do marvelous in the chorus. Seated next to her was one such girl. She quickly gained the favor of Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer and was well on her way to becoming the best of friends with Meg. They sat and giggled with each other after particularly bad auditions, but after good ones they both exclaimed to each other how marvelous the next opera season would be.

"If I could have your attention please!" Monsieur Reyer called out while hitting his conductor's baton on the side of his music stand to break up the chatter on and behind the stage. The noise persisted and he sighed in defeat. Madame Giry rolled her eyes and smacked her cane against the wood of the stage hard enough it likely made a dent in the stage. All the chattering girls jumped in fright and quieted immediately. Monsieur Reyer shot Madame Giry a relieved look and continued speaking. "Right – it seems we have all the chorus girls we need, but those of you who did not receive a place in the chorus are welcome to attend the upcoming ballet auditions when they begin in a few minutes. If not, then one of our stagehands can show you out." With a dismissive wave, he turned his attention to Madame Giry who was instructing him what music she'd like him to play for the ballet tryouts.

Meg quickly lost interest as a few girls followed dejectedly after one of the stagehands and the rest scuffled their feet on stage and waited around for the ballet tryouts to begin in hopes of achieving a spot in the Opera Populaire. She turned towards her companion to talk about the upcoming opera. The girl was staring up at the rafters with an odd expression on her face. Her name was Odette. She was about Meg's age – perhaps a few years older – dark haired and with intense grey eyes. She wrinkled her brows together and nudged Meg.

"I saw something quite strange up there just now," she turned towards her new friend with a puzzled expression on her face. Fearing the discovery of her Erik, Meg quickly glanced up. Just as she did, he must have felt eyes on him because the small bit of white mask that was visible quickly disappeared and seemed to have traveled up. Oh blast him! He was supposed to be stealthy!

"It was likely just a stagehand – I didn't see anything," Meg replied with a disarming smile. She needed to get Odette off this subject quickly. Meg didn't want him to be discovered by this new chorus girl. She tried to convince herself it was because it would endanger Erik, but in all honesty, she didn't want him to decide he liked this curious girl more than Meg. Jealousy was not becoming on young ladies – her mother had told her this on several occasions – but she couldn't help a few not-so-nice thoughts towards Odette in that moment. The girl was oblivious to the direction of Meg's thoughts and regretfully drew her gaze back towards the stage when whatever she thought she saw disappeared from sight.

"Perhaps you're right," she murmured before her attention was drawn elsewhere. She pointed towards where a large number of girls were entering the room. "Oh goodness! Look at all of them! Poor Madame Giry!" She exclaimed. Meg felt a wave of sympathy for her mother. The poor woman would have a terrible migraine from getting all those girls in line.

"Meg!" She heard her mother call out and gesture for her to make her way to the stage. At the same time her mother was calling for her, Monsieur Reyer called out for all the new chorus girls to make their way to the side of the stage. Odette and Meg hurried to the stage.

"Yes, maman?" She asked when her mother approached all of them.

"Meg, mon cher, will you show the chorus girls to their dormitories?" She asked. Meg sighed in mild annoyance, but nodded all the same.

"Of course! I'd be happy to," she replied with a polite smile. "Follow me girls!" She instructed and showed the large group of girls to their new rooms here at the opera house. Odette followed along next to her and chattered away, which kept Meg from being irritated about the conversations going on behind her. The Opera Ghost was the topic of discussion at the moment.

"Did you hear what happened last Opera season?"

"He kidnapped the Prima Donna! Christine Daee! I suppose I should call her the Vicomtess de Chagny now though!"

"I've heard he's a monster! Some type of beast that lives under the opera house and kidnaps chorus girls!"

"Will you all _be quiet!?" _Meg suddenly exclaimed when she could take no more of their ignorant comments. Sure all they said was true for the most part – aside from the monster part – but she still didn't like to hear others talking about Erik like that. He was a decent man that was just forced through extraordinarily bad circumstances. Although if even her mother had no sympathy for him, she supposed she shouldn't expect any of these brats to have any. The girls quieted down, but whispered amongst themselves that Meg had the same disposition as her mother. A wave of giggles went through the crowd of them after this particular comment, but by that time Meg had reached the dormitories and flung open the door. "You'll be staying here. One of the other chorus girls can show you the ropes," she told them and strode off down the hallway in irritation. She was already annoyed with these new girls and had no desire to watch her mother struggle with the new ballet girls, so rather than head back to the main stage; she wandered off to her room to wait for her lessons that night.

* * *

After nearly getting caught by that girl who had been sitting by Meg, Erik had disappeared down below in order to prepare for Meg's lesson. There was much to be done in the two days he had before the Prima Donna auditions, and he was feeling pressed for time. Erik was confident she was skilled enough to obtain the title on her own, but it was better to be safe than sorry. There was also the selfish want of being the reason she could reach her highest potential. She would be his magnum opus! He'd decided that the night before when he returned to his domain after listening to her sing in the chapel. Meg's voice would far surpass all that she could ever imagine. She would be the Prima Donna that all talked about, and she would be his. By some stroke of luck – or perhaps divine intervention – she hadn't seen his face when Christine removed his mask during _Don Juan Triumphant_. It made his work all the better. She knew his name, she could know his heart too, and perhaps she could grow to love him before seeing his face. Erik sighed when he realized how outlandish his ideas were. Her love – any love at all really – was too much to hope for. His heart would just have to be content with the rare moments of kindness Christine showed him. Tears burned in his eyes when he thought of her and the conversation he happened upon on his way down below. _"He kidnapped the Prima Donna! Christine Daee! I suppose I should call her the Vicomtess de Chagny now though!"_

With a growl of rage, he grabbed the music stand he'd been stacking pieces of music on and flung it across the room. Music sheets scattered all around him, but he didn't care at that moment. That damned Vicomte! If he had been there at that moment, Erik would not have hesitated to strangle him. He never should have hesitated to begin with! He should have just killed him that terrible night on the roof rather than wait as he had. The chance had presented itself plenty of times to just shove the fool off the roof of the opera house, but then Christine would have hated him forever. Erik couldn't image those lovely eyes filled with absolute loathing. He'd seen hatred in her gaze briefly when he had captured Raoul and had the Punjab lasso ready to strangle him, but imagine if he had killed the fop! In his anger now, he decided he didn't care. He already knew Christine would never be his, so killing the Vicomte wouldn't affect him in the least. While he's at it, he should just extinguish her as well. Then her smile, her eyes, and her lovely voice wouldn't haunt him when his eyelids closed. Sleep was something terrible now and he rarely ended up sleeping for more than a few hours without having some nightmare about the time she'd taken off his mask.

After a small temper tantrum – in which he'd destroyed a few pieces of sheet music he hadn't liked much to begin with – Erik finally calmed down and recollected himself and his sheet music for that night. It would only be a few hours until then. For now – he was forced to wait. It was agony now that he had something to look forward to again. Perhaps he could try his hand at a new composition. Erik gathered up all his materials, but when he went to seat himself at his organ, he cried out in anguish upon the remembrance that he'd destroyed it. Placing his parchment and quill on a nearby table, he bent over and gently picked up one of the many pipes that now littered the floor. In a fit of rage, he'd destroyed his most valued possession. He really did need to work on controlling his temper. Forgetting the lesson he promised little Meg that night, Erik carelessly tossed the pipe back on the floor, donned his white mask – which he occasionally removed while in his lair – and with a swish of his cloak, he exited down a corridor that led above.


End file.
